Charedi Vulnerability to LGBT Trends

In hindsight, relatively minor events can turn out as examples of the butterfly effect: a seemingly gentle movement of a small creature ends up causing a tornado. A couple of weeks ago, Yair Sherki published a “coming out of the closet” post, and in my opinion, this might become such an event for Charedi society.

Sherki is not Charedi, but he is a writer on Charedi affairs, the scion of a rabbinic family deeply steeped in Torah life and values. He is widely known and warmly accepted by the Charedi public. His painful personal confession was read in Charedi circles that are generally unexposed to coming out statements. The shockwaves are already being felt among organizations that provide solutions and advice, but we are still only at the beginning of the chain reaction. And so, we have no choice but to do what we have avoided to the best of our ability until now: seriously discuss how we, in Charedi society, must deal with the LGBT phenomenon and the searing pain Sherki described as the struggle of not a few individuals.

For many years, the Charedi public maintained the attitude that “talking about it grants legitimacy,” or the Charedi community version of the Overton window. People who suffered from “reverse tendencies” – the preferred euphemism coined in religious-Zionist circles for LGBT phenomena –received (if at all) individual responses alone

For many years, the Charedi public maintained the attitude that “talking about it grants legitimacy,” or the Charedi community version of the Overton window. People who suffered from “reverse tendencies” – the preferred euphemism coined in religious-Zionist circles for LGBT phenomena –received (if at all) individual responses alone. The fear was that any discussion of the issue would encourage people to think twice about their sexual orientation (not to mention “identity”) and harm their ability to respond to the generally successful transition within Charedi society to traditional marriage and family life.

Yet, the approach has its limitations, and it seems that we are now reaching a crossroads. Only a thin line separates a pure-eyed child whose “men marrying men” is classified as a Midrashic teaching about the oddities of ancient times (alongside the giants of Canaan and the sorcerers of Egypt) and a pure-eyed child who suddenly discovers that the phenomenon of same-sex households raising children together is prevalent in his own country and perhaps even in his city. Sometimes, all that separates the two is one post by a religious journalist that comes out of the closet. And if we once rested on the laurels of the pleasant illusion that what isn’t published in ‘our’ media will not necessarily reach the ears of our children or youth, I think that at least since the Walder affair, most of us have been forced to sober up to the bitter reality. What the children won’t hear at home, they will hear in the wonderfully guarded educational institutions we sent them to.

If the LGBT community had remained confined to the secular realm, perhaps the attitude of complete disregard for the issue could have survived for a while longer. However, its persistent intrusion into the religious public, not as another sin of those who go astray but as part of the declared identity of people who continue to identify as religious, is a ticking time bomb – even for the Charedi public. As anyone who has studied the history of religious communities knows, we are all influenced by one another. The stomach aches of the religious community today are the migraine of the Charedi sector tomorrow. And while a same-sex lifestyle in a godless secular world is a challenge that the average Charedi person would not feel threatened by, such kippah-wearing couples threaten his peace much more. The almost obsessive discourse within the national-religious public about the distinction between acceptance and consent, between embracing and strengthening, between celebrating a covenant between two men celebrate and mere participation at the wedding, flows into Charedi ears and does its work. It would be folly to think otherwise.

Admittedly, many of us still prefer to pretend that what happens in the neighbor’s yard has no bearing on us. The old Charedi tradition is characterized by absolute self-confidence in being the only correct way of serving Hashem, from which anyone who deviates from it is doomed. The establishment Charedi attitude towards national religiosity (or its Modern Orthodox parallel) has always seen its members as people who may have good intentions but cannot be expected to have spiritual resilience. Therefore, those influenced by this attitude may continue to insist that the storms waging around the issue in the national religious public do not concern us.

As with many miscalculations, here, too, there is certainly a kernel of truth. Charediism, as a movement founded on adherence to tradition and turning our back on modernity, is indeed more capable of enduring situations in which its adherents behave in a manner contradicting the spirit of the times. But much water has flowed in the Jordan since the Charedim were a small group of “religious fanatics” living in sheltered ghettos and ready to absorb glances of disdain and contempt every time somebody left their walls. As Haredi society loses the characteristics that made it such a unique religious phenomenon, it also loses the antibodies that ensured it a particularly high capacity to defend itself against anti-Torah external trends.

From the analysis of the current situation, three educational challenges arise, in my opinion, that make it difficult for us, as Charedi individuals and families living in the 21st century, to deal with the challenge of the LGBT drift. The first is the weakening of the “counterculture” element in contemporary Charediism; the second is the almost exclusive focus on framing the Jewish way of life as one that promises an infinitely rewarding life; and the third is the lack of attractive marital models in the immediate environment of a large part of our youth. The first two difficulties are the result of the fact that we do not live on an isolated island, and we are thus involuntarily influenced by the world around us. On the other hand, the third difficulty arises from our attempt to block social dynamics by simply silencing and ignoring them. Sometimes, this approach may be correct and justified; in this case, I deeply fear that it will strike back like a boomerang.

The issue at hand is less, I believe, a question of how much to say. If everybody knows, that particular question becomes moot. The question is more about how we can productively tailor our social infrastructures to assist in dealing with the challenge. Below, I will expand on each of the three complexities and try to offer initial directions for bettering the situation.

 

Orthodoxy Must Remain a Counterculture

Parents and educators dealing with youth who exhibit same-sex tendencies find themselves before young people who have already been exposed to the prevailing progressive view of sexual identity. They believe, on one level or another, that sexual attraction is an integral part of their core identity and that demanding its suppression is a gross injustice. When we stand up and quote biblical prohibitions without additional context, we sound irrelevant. Whether they say it or not, these youth will think: “Have you ever faced such a test? Do you have any right to preach to me like this?” And this thought, indeed, is not without some foundation. The generation we are educating is not accustomed to the discourse of standing up to real and deep trials. The Charedi lifestyle in recent years, certainly for the great majority of society, has taken on the appearance of a relaxed traditional bourgeoisie that is meticulous in observing mitzvos but usually without demanding significant sacrifice.

Members of my generation, whose parents are sixty or older, can usually point to real hardships that they withstood with dignity. Immigrating to Israel despite a sharp drop in the standard of living; giving up a decent livelihood in order to live a Torah lifestyle; maintaining a Charedi appearance in an ignorant and hostile environment that had not yet absorbed the principles of multiculturalism; raising big families out of the dedication of body and soul, quite literally.

From an emphasis on “our table is larger than theirs,” today, we all want to sit at both tables: Torah and greatness in one place. Modesty and style together. Compliance with Torah mitzvos but also “listening to myself.”

But what about us today? Although the idealists have not entirely disappeared from our ranks, their proportion within Charedi society is undoubtedly far lower. Ultimately, we live in a world that has sanctified the pursuit of happiness, including both a fairly high standard of living and a considerable degree of personal autonomy. Mainstream Charedi society is affected by this, whether we like it or not. Along with its expansion, the increase in its power, and the efficiency of its communal conduct, it has moved quite far from roots that focused on turning one’s back on the transience of worldly life for the sake of eternal life. From an emphasis on “our table is larger than theirs,” today, we all want to sit at both tables: Torah and greatness in one place. Modesty and style together. Compliance with Torah mitzvos but also “listening to myself.” Even among Kollel couples, which remains the ideal for much of the Charedi public, it is common today to find those for whom the virtue of toraso umanuso (“his Torah is his trade”) does not contradict the pleasures of vacations abroad and branded clothing.

It can be argued, with no small degree of justice, that such changes are not unique to the Charedi sector. The first generations in any new movement are filled with idealism and sacrifice, while their descendants mostly take for granted what they inherited from their ancestors. If the average Charedi young man today is much less idealistic than his grandfather, then the same is true for his kibbutznik peer whose grandfather participated in the establishment of the settlements of Mevo Hama and Migdal and in the War of Independence. However, there is one essential difference between a Charedi society losing its ideological wings and other movements that do so: Charedim claim to be a precise distillation of Judaism and a counterculture by definition. It is reasonable to ask how many generations a counterculture can survive; for Charedi society, however, this question touches on the essence of Charedi being. A counterculture that ceases its stubborn resistance to cultural hegemony is nothing more than an empty shell. A Charedi sector that has given up the worldview of
“Avraham the Ivri,” who placed himself on “the other side” of the river to the rest of the world, is a society that has lost its spiritual relevance. All the meaning left to it is a religious lifestyle that excels only in upholding a long list of social codes.

If the only difference between modern Orthodoxy and us is the strength of community institutions and the intensity of social pressure, then the maximum achievement we can aspire to in this area is to reduce the publicity of same-sex relationships in our society. As important as this might be, it cannot be all-encompassing when it comes to a drift that not includes not merely a serious Torah offense but even threatens the cornerstone of our national being: the family

The issue I’ve raised concerns far more than our attitude toward LGBT. However, this challenge is perhaps the most severe example of the price we could pay if we don’t know how to cast spiritual meaning into the social framework that constitutes Charedi life. If the only difference between modern Orthodoxy and us is the strength of community institutions and the intensity of social pressure, then the maximum achievement we can aspire to in this area is to reduce the publicity of same-sex relationships in our society. As important as this might be, it cannot be all-encompassing when it comes to a drift that not includes not merely a serious Torah offense but even threatens the cornerstone of our national being: the family. To face this threat today, the same spirit is required in which previous generations faced derision and wall-to-wall mockery due to unfashionable choices. Without it, Charediism will also fail in its pretense of being the best way to ensure the perpetuation of righteous generations.

If we’re searching for reasons for optimism, it can be pointed out that a large Charedi public still finds interest in a life of holiness and not just one of community. However, the path to such a life has become one that requires much more self-knowledge and personal clarification, and the common education in our institutions is often not conducive to providing tools for such paths of serving Hashem. Once, it was almost enough to belong to the Charedi public (certainly belonging to those whose Torah is their trade) to exercise the muscle of devotion. Today, everything is much simpler and, therefore, far more complex. Each of us must find our own way to express the founding spirit of Charedi society: a life of clear priorities whose price is paid out of deep fidelity to Jewish values.

Preserving this spirit is not a solution for all instances, but it offers a way of dealing with many of them. Most of the Charedi young people who will experience the LGBT trial will find themselves located somewhere on the wide continuum of sexual attraction and not at the extreme end that excludes all contact with members of the opposite sex. Though such extremes exist, for the majority, the trial will not involve giving up a spousal relationship and raising a family, but rather giving up an exciting and satisfying relationship or giving up some of the experiences they are capable of. In such cases, it seems that an education that demonstrates a Torah life as a prestigious but demanding mission, tailor-made for each one according to his measures and not as a sweeping formula that applies to everyone, will be largely beneficial. But do they receive such an education? Or, due to an overconfidence in the power of the formal Charedi framework, do we breed a feeling that there is no real need for such an education?

If we don’t want to find ourselves in a few years reading coming out posts of Charedi women and automatically reacting with encouragement because “this is the reality and there is nothing to be done,” the time to think is now. Orthodoxy has no guaranteed immunity against the existence of opposite tendencies nor against the brainwashing that posits ”sexual identity” as a fundamental part of the human psyche that cannot be denied. All we have is the DNA of a counterculture that can be leveraged. As in biology, movement genes are also subject to epigenetic changes from one generation to another. Without the right personal choices and the adjustment of our educational arsenal, we are also at grave risk from the cultural storm raging around us.

 

Judaism Does Not Promise Solutions

Further to the challenge of Jewish living ready to sacrifice for noble causes, another problematic phenomenon of recent years is worthy of note. Today, even families who do direct their lives according to a Torah compass and pay a fully aware price for doing so often tend to hide this sacrifice from the younger generation. The reason: we strive to educate our kids on the maxim of “being Charedi is simply the most fun.”

It is not clear when exactly this happened. Yet, it seems that sometime during the early 2000s, we became convinced as a society that in today’s era, the best way to educate our kids is to ensure a Charedi environment replete with positive energies, thereby ensuring that our children will choose to follow the path of truth simply for the sake of personal interest. To be clear, I do not underestimate the educational challenges and the real concerns that stand behind the emergence of this educational approach; to the extent that it succeeded in reducing negative phenomena such as child beating or education by intimidation method, it is certainly worthwhile. However, an education that chooses to shout out its “joy” and silence its ”tremble” (based on the verse “take joy in trembling”) is not without its own risks. Contrary to what some counselors like to tell us, endless showering of warmth, love, and positive experiences on a child is not, in itself, a guarantee of his success in life as a Jew. Such an educational approach is effective when it comes alongside a demonstration of living for something greater than ourselves. Without it, it might keep our children in the fold yet stands to offer them precious little spiritual resilience.

Judaism is based on a desire for life; it certainly does not look upon this world as a valley of demise unworthy of cultivation. Still, Judaism has also never promised a life that is an unadulterated garden of roses. No, not everything is permitted

I happened to chance upon a wonderful motto adopted by a certain educational figure: “In Judaism, everything is permitted; the only question is when and how.” With all due respect to the psychological considerations behind this phrase, it completely destroys the original meaning of the “the yoke of Torah and mitzvos.” A more serious approach would have required us to face the fact that the word “yoke” is not employed by chance, rather than, for example, the word “experience.” Judaism is based on a desire for life; it certainly does not look upon this world as a valley of demise unworthy of cultivation. Still, Judaism has also never promised a life that is an unadulterated garden of roses. No, not everything is permitted.

The aforesaid educational approach developed, in my opinion, due to the hardship we have today in accepting the existence of problems and difficulties that have no clear solution. As technology and science reach new heights, so do humankind’s expectations for solutions to physical or mental pain, to personal and circumstantial limitations. The progressive side of the political map correctly identified this trend and offered its own original solution to human problems: denial. Being overweight is not a health problem but a cultural construct; deaf people are not disabled but people with a different communication culture; a third-world country is not backward but undergoing decolonization; a boy who suffers from incompatibility with his male environment is just a girl; and so on.

This concept sees stretching the limits of human autonomy as a good way to escape the discomfort associated with “no crossing” signs and uses legal means to create a utopian reality in which everyone shares in the pretense that cases condemned by nature as unsolvable can be resolved through human Enlightenment. Thus, an unwanted pregnancy can be aborted right up to the expected date of birth. A person suffering from depression or a chronic illness can request and receive euthanasia. A same-sex couple can give birth to a biological child of one of them, and both will be recognized as his sole parents.

While no Charedi community can officially agree with such an approach, we are also not eager to deal directly with the ideological conflict at the root of the matter. On the one hand, we cannot educate our children for unlimited autonomy and assure them that almost every barrier they encounter is nothing more than a social construct that can be easily dismantled. Clearly, the Torah does not buy into this idea. On the other hand, we are not eager to talk about the mere existence of barriers, fearing that they do not fit well into the discourse of “experiential Charediism” that we have been tending towards in recent years. To the extent that there are communities that choose to emphasize prohibitions and boycotts, they do so via methods that turn the barrier not into a Torah challenge but into disgust incarnate, a folly that no sane person can desire. Familiar Charedi slogans such as “anybody with an iPhone is simply miserable” or “Internet causes cancer” – as visible on the walls of certain neighborhoods or on large flyers overhanging from private porches – were born in such districts. What will practitioners of such an approach do when they come across, for example, iPhone owners who are clearly not miserable or those who abstain from the Internet yet nevertheless suffer from cancer? Well, it requires the kind of long-term thinking that, unfortunately, some parts of Charedi society sorely lack.

On the one hand, we cannot educate our children for unlimited autonomy and assure them that almost every barrier they encounter is nothing more than a social construct that can be easily dismantled. Clearly, the Torah does not buy into this idea. On the other hand, we are not eager to talk about the mere existence of barriers, fearing that they do not fit well into the discourse of “experiential Charediism” that we have been tending towards in recent years

Torah education with the correct focus, on the other hand, forces us to confront a reality in which intractable challenges are a part of life. Interestingly, most of the examples are related to personal status and relationships. While in many areas, the current era has brought relief for the observant, in matters of personal status, there has been only a subtle shift. It might be easier today to trace the traces of a husband who has disappeared. Still, a grieving woman who has not been able to arrange a divorce is in the same predicament as similar grieving women in the Middle Ages. A Kohen and a divorcee who fall in love these days will not be able to realize their passion with halachic permission just as they could not do it two hundred years ago. And despite all the attempts to avoid exposing mamzerim, there are still cases (though rare) in which all the powers of leniency come up empty-handed in allowing a mamzer to play a family role in Jewish continuity.

The truth is, however, that “unresolvable” situations in the field of relationships are not limited to select groups. Even for those who enter into the covenant of marriage religiously and properly, the Torah dictates a deep commitment that does not always coincide with romantic towers blooming in the air. The belief that “so-and-so’s daughter is slated for so-and-so” – as the Talmudic adage teaches – refers to the best and most suitable matches, not those that will necessarily pave the path to constant marital bliss. When the Talmud tells us about Rabbi Chiya’s wife, whom he continued to respect even though she caused him much grief, the option of divorce does not come up, nor do questions of “is she really my true bashert” or “perhaps my true love is waiting for me elsewhere.” “It is sufficient,” states the same R. Chiya, “that they raise our children and save us from sin.” Is there a marriage counselor today who could read such a statement of resignation without deep shock?

In some ways, perhaps our situation is better. Undoubtedly, there are conditions in which divorce is a mitzvah, and the fact that divorced people in our community are treated more appropriately today (and still not appropriately enough) is an important achievement. But alongside progress in education for good relationships and awareness of what can improve it, we are proud of the fact that in Charedi society, the institution of marriage remains a sacred institution built on a Torah commitment that accentuates less the selfish pleasure that each party derives and more the couple’s moral development (which includes components of love and intimacy). As part of this commitment, halachic limitations also apply to the marital bond itself, and its essence can never be violated in the name of the good of the marriage or the happiness of one of the spouses.

What is true for marriage is even more true for other situations related to the search for marital happiness. For a host of factors, we have something of a single’s crisis in our community; but nobody will permit them, because of the challenges of remaining single, to engage in relationships outside of the sanctity of marriage. There are also many divorced people who, due to their resumes, have little chance of building a second home on the ruins of the first and are condemned to bear the trauma of their first relationship without a corrective experience. The Torah cannot offer them even a sliver of a comforting, compensating, sometimes truly therapeutic relationship. It’s all (chuppa and kiddushin) or nothing.

When it comes to somebody located at the end of the continuum and clearly and consistently able to feel attraction only towards members of his own sex, it must be admitted wholeheartedly that he has received one of the most difficult tracks our world has to offer. Moreover, just like the mamzer, he has no part in determining his painful status. He is entitled to full respect, support, and compassion, without this in any way contradicting the awareness that for him, indeed, there is no solution.

With a good dose of courage, our Torah worldview must observe a reality in which Judaism does not dictate a solution to every predicament – and this should be done in advance of facing actual cases of individuals suffering such a fate. It was easier to believe that those who claim sexual attraction only to members of their own gender can be healed by comprehensive psychological treatment. But though such treatments have been sporadically successful, we know that there is no guarantee of positive results. Insisting that treatment will necessarily effect a “change” may only make a suffering person’s condition far worse.

In the book of Yeshayahu, Hashem turns to the eunuch, who is doomed to remain barren of offspring, with the words: “Let not the eunuch say, I am a dry tree.” But is there a promise that the dry tree will bear fruit? That children will fill his house with voices of joy? No. Instead, Hashem continues and says: “And I shall give them in my house and in my walls a hand and a name, better than sons and daughters; an eternal name I shall give him that will never be cut off.” The eunach will have a name and a memory, but not children. Even in Divine prophecies of comfort, there remains a recognition of incurable wounds.

And yet, a promise is made. Hashem’s love will not deprive any creature of its reward. It will not prevent anybody from being written in the golden letters of the Jewish People’s history book just because circumstances did not allow for the formation of a family. “For thus said Hashem to the eunuchs who…  choose what I desired and keep My covenant.” In the end, even family derives its meaning from the same covenant. This is a truth we all need to recognize.

 

The Erasing of Couplehood Models

The third educational challenge we need to solve in order to better deal with this issue is related to our attempt to defend ourselves from what the Charedi terminology likes to call “foreign winds.” If, in the past, romance had a place of honor in distinctly Orthodox fiction, part of strengthening the Charedi walls in the latter part of the twentieth was a sweeping renunciation of any public engagement with couplehood and relationships.

By the word “public,” I do not mean the public indecency on city streets; I refer to what happens inside the home. Many Charedi adults will testify that they grew up in a home where they never witnessed words of affection between father and mother, let alone anything beyond that. Alongside this, Charedi culture was shaped in the image and likeness of this prohibition. In Charedi music, there is no trace of the love between man and woman; in Charedi literature, relationships were for many years plastic and forced (if they existed at all), and Charedi newspapers demonstrably refrained from writing anything that might imply a significant connection between man and woman in the fabric of Jewish life.

n Charedi music, there is no trace of the love between man and woman; in Charedi literature, relationships were for many years plastic and forced (if they existed at all), and Charedi newspapers demonstrably refrained from writing anything that might imply a significant connection between man and woman in the fabric of Jewish life

Although this approach has been re-examined by parts of the Charedi public in recent years, in most Charedi area codes, it is strongly preserved. In many homes, children and teenagers are raised who are very aware of their parents as “father and mother” and far less aware of their being partners in a couplehood relationship. A child who grows up in such a conservative environment is unlikely to come across any other couplehood model. If the Western world went in one direction by stuffing children’s heads with Disney fantasies and Hollywood hallucinations, the Charedi world went to the other extreme. For some mesivta-aged (high school-aged) boys, the only spoken love between man and woman he comes across is found in the Torah (though his almost exclusive focus is on Talmud).

One of the possible negative consequences of this approach, which was developed out of a pure-hearted desire to increase modesty among the Jewish People, is a distorted channeling of the intense emotions of adolescence. For Charedi school counselors, the phenomenon of “entanglement” (tisbuch, the euphemism for a crush) among Charedi seminary (high school) girls is well known, almost a mirror image of the stormy infatuations among non-Orthodox girls of similar ages. A Charedi girl usually doesn’t have boys around her, but if she’s blessed with a soul that tends to fall in love, she’ll simply find a female address for her intense feelings.

Most of the time, this will be an innocent platonic infatuation, even if tedious and embarrassing for all concerned. However, the more the LGBT messages penetrate us, we can expect that the number of these relationships that spill over into the physical realm will increase. In the boys’ world, moreover, this is already a well-known and disturbing phenomenon, and it stems from the same source. A boy who has not been exposed to any example of a loving and satisfying relationship between men and women is at greater risk of first directing his emotions and then also his sexual desire towards the only candidates for a close emotional connection: his friends in Yeshiva.

This is not to claim that exposure to attractive couplehood models will eliminate the appearance of same-sex relationships among our youth. Not at all. However, it is hard to ignore the fact that in a world where young people have no knowledge of the beauty and excitement that inheres in relationships with members of the opposite sex, their imagination will focus on the relationships they are familiar with, which they might try to upgrade according to the demands of a maturing body and a developing brain.

It seems that there is no escape from walking on a tightrope here. We clearly do not want to end up in a situation where our young children are already forming romantic relationships with their sisters’ friends or with the girl next door. But the strict separation between the sexes at this age, before the shidduchim period begins, does not need to include the erasing of all evidence of what stands behind the separation: a great potential that will one day be realized. And no, we should not be at the mercy of Hollywood. The appropriate demonstration of marital love and affection begins at home, and the core of the matter should be articulated in open discourse within the family unit. Encouraging children to read books (today, there is even Charedi literature that fits the bill) describing loving couples can also make a helpful contribution.

 

A Challenge For Us All

The challenge posed by the increasing takeover of the LGBT ideology is, in the end, an educational challenge. There have always been people with a clear and exclusive tendency towards members of their own sex, and their number is small. And there have always been people with the ability to move along the sexual continuum, and social conventions have pushed them in the heterosexual direction.

Dealing with both types requires us to take our heads out of the sand while refraining from shouting out, “abomination, abomination!” We need to consider our own educational models and examine whether they give our children the powers, the worldview, and the knowledge that will spare them heartbreaking struggles in the best case and, at the very least, assist them in finding the strength and support for the ongoing struggle that some are destined for. I have highlighted three areas of Charedi education and living that deserve attention; clearly, there is much more to be said about the topic.

There is a path to compassion that does not confirm loathing, and it does not pass through the judgment and disgust that refuse to feel the magnitude of the trial and the price paid. It calls upon us to engage in self-clarification of principles and worldviews, which will be reflected in a healthier educational model and in setting a more honest personal example. This is a path that demands a lot from all of us; it doesn’t allow us to toss the ball into the court of those who suffer most and their immediate therapists. But only via this path, I believe, can we face our own youth with a clean conscience.

 

 

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